Cotton
by Aindrea
Summary: This is what happens in Salem, from Cotton's point of view.
1. Introduction

Disclaimer: Salem and all its characters are property of WGN America and their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Cotton**

Written by Aindrea

The black liquid flows with ease, forming words as Reverend Mather slides the pen over the yellowish page of his secret book.

The signature of his essence.

His strong hand gracefully presses the nib just enough for the ink to leave its dark trace imprinted on the still empty pages, filling them with the ideas he faintly grasps from the overwhelming storm of thoughts in his head.

_Preach._

_Preach from the bottom of your passionate heart. Preach to the Puritans. Preach until your soul can no longer doubt any of the words your mouth speaks and your body and mind are exhausted from the vehemence of it._

_Preach to achieve the harmony of oneness._

Cotton takes a deep breath, holding the air in his lungs for as long as he can. Until his body demands more freshness.

A heavy, melancholic sigh.

_The enlightening truth within you shall reach the most hidden corners in this unexplored, exotic world. _

_You are meant to fight this arduous battle, to win the ultimate war._

"How?" the quiet word on his dry lips. His fearful gaze slowly seeking for the ray of sunlight that brightly floods into the room.

"There is always hope." a promising attempt to assure his troubled mind.

He swallows hard, looking down again.

_Fear not the unfamiliar, but do work to conquer the impurity everywhere you go. The New World is a promised land, though it is up to your unalterable patience and your dedication to make it a tangible reality for everyone._

The confused man smiles with false confidence as the paper faithfully reflects exactly what he needs to read. It somehow soothes his soul.

_Preach to the point where you have guided innocent souls to the right path. The path of light. The path of truth, mercy, love, and salvation._

_Not until then you will have borrowed a moment of relief, although not rejoice._

"Rejoice," he stresses the word, slurring as if drunk. His fingertips carefully hover above the wet letters. "Um, rejoice will only come..."

_Rejoice will only come when you have exiled the Devil along with its dark forces and the messengers from Hell, away from all known boundaries._

Reverend Mather frowns and growls at the awareness.

"Black magic. Witches." his own barely audible voice burning his throat. He closes his left hand into a tight fist, his expression now somber and strangely determined.

_That glorious day will be the day for Salem to start a new chapter of its own history. When people will be able to look up with the purest smile on their faces, thankful for the new opportunity and for have been freed from the evil._

Increase Mather's words of steel resonating from the back of his mind.

Increase, his almighty father.

Cotton helplessly fights the suffocating pressure in his chest. Tears sting his fierce eyes.

"A real, noble preacher," he nods eagerly, trying hard to convince himself. "My mission..."

_This one is your mission in life._

"...in Salem."

_That is why you were sent to Salem._

* * *

_Hi! :)_

_Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy this story from Cotton's viewpoint._

_Please feel free to leave a comment._

_Aindrea_


	2. Chapter I

Disclaimer: Salem and all its characters are property of WGN America and their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Cotton**

**Chapter I**

Written by Aindrea

My fists are banging the table furiously over and over again until the pain becomes numbness. White knuckles, visible veins.

I don't seem to breathe fast enough. The oxygen is not getting to my lungs.

"Why?!" the ire arousing from the core of my being. Like gale-force winds violently gathering the darkest clouds on the high seas.

My arms shaking when I bring my cold hands to my face to examine them. For some cruel reason, _power_ always escapes my grasp. Foolish attempts. Futile. All of them.

It has been like trying to take hold of boiling water.

_Who am I trying to deceive? _

A merciless guffaw fills the room, echoing in my head. It tortures my soul.

Was that my omnipotent father? Or I?

If my father knew he would certainly remind me of the astonishing magnitude of my incompetence.

He relishes every single opportunity he gets; glorifying his unquestionable perfection. I, on the other hand, am the _scaevitas_ personified. Feebleness.

"I am _**sorry**_!" the sharp word severely injures my throat so I start coughing uncontrollably. I quickly place my left hand on the table for support, the other one clutching at my chest.

I slump down in the chair, throwing my head back and squeezing my eyes shut. _Is this how it feels to have a brutally fractured soul?_

I do my best, but I'm never good enough. I never will.

I smile bitterly, almost savoring the acrid failure.

'A hopeless disaster', he would say.

He _loves_ to put me to rout.

Yes.

I bring all misfortune.

Yes.

I am the living disappointment.

Yes.

I am everything my father dislikes.

No...

Everything he _loathes_.

Tears of anger stinging my eyes. I glance around, in desperate need of it. My beloved whiskey.

My trembling hand reaches out for the bottle. I hold it as if it were my last resort.

_I'm far from being strong; I'm even farther from being what he wants me to be._

I feel _broken_. I have the toughest time putting all of the tiny pieces of my shattered soul together. He needs no more than five seconds to crush it again.

I guzzle the burning alcohol but find it repulsive. I let the bottle drop to the floor and lunge forward to grab the windowsill. I choke for what seems an eternity.

I was hoping to wash the nauseating guilt down. It ironically has an intensified flavor, stronger than I remembered.

I close my eyes; the soothing breeze of the evening gently hits my face. The tears finally make their way down my cheeks.

A prayer. I need it.

With trembling voice I start. "_Gloria Patri, et Filio… et Spiritui Sancto. Sicut erat in principio… et nunc, et semper, e-_"I fall silent when I hear people walking nearby. I open my eyes and look down. I spot three ladies. They are chatting and laughing.

"_Aren't you afraid of witches?"_ one of them asks in a playful tone; the skinny. I swallow hard.

The thick girl looks around and says quieter than the first one. _"I am. I don't know if our newly arrived Reverend can help us."_ I frown slightly, the air catching in my throat.

"_Reverend Mather?"_ the redhead replies and smiles. _"He is a good man, he will save us. I trust him."_

I watch the women go, wishing I could follow them.

Unexpectedly, her kind words make it easier to cope with the current suffocating emotions.

_She trusts me._

I slowly straighten up. If that girl sees in me the tool that God is using to protect Salem, then I must be it.

I've seen her at the church. _Miss Embry_.

I know where she lives. I know what she is.

I drag my gaze up at the sky with begging eyes.

_Peccata Mortalia. _

"God, if she sees hope in me, it means she is carrying your message."

_Luxuria. _

"I must listen to it…"

_Carnem._

"…even if in her arms."

_Mulier._

"She is your tool."

My father would never take notice of divine messages coming from a prostitute. He is too blind to see that Our Lord is discreet.

I am not that _pathetic_ after all. I am capable of deciphering what he simply denies.

I must visit _her _at once.

Soon, after throwing on my coat and taking my gloves and my Holy Bible, I'm on my way.

_The Divining Rod._

I avoid looking at people but do answer their greetings. For a moment I wish I was invisible.

Two or three minutes later I'm there.

I stop before the reddish house.

What if she's not here?

_I'd wait for her._

I force myself to calm down.

I jump a little when a drunken man stumbles out into the street, leaving the door wide open for me. I summon up the courage to step in but it gets quite disturbing when everyone stops their activities to look at me.

Indifference is my safe bet. 'Pitiful sinners'. That's what Increase Mather has taught me. I am an intellectual man. The one sent to save them.

_Where is she?_

This isn't right. I _should _leave. I am a stranger. I want to feel sorry for them all, especially for _her_.

_God! Where are you?! Give me a sign!_

But I am _weak_ after all. I can't exit this _awful_ place.

I hold my breath, look down at the Bible in my hands and raise my eyes from it to gaze around. No words escaping my mouth yet.

_Should I pray?_

No one says anything whatsoever. I can almost touch the latent barrier between them and me. Their world of _nastiness_ and my world of _glory_. I'm not supposed to be here.

_Or am I? God? Are you listening to me?_

They are staring at me. They are waiting for me to lead them to the path of enlightenment.

These fragile seconds are taking too long to pass. Time is deliberately slowing down to make me doubt. It is mocking me.

I hear footsteps so I turn around. _Miss Embry._ She has such a warm, magnetic smile.

I look into her eyes. She _is_ God's tool.

She is meant to give me not only a message, but also _comfort_. How can I remain distant? Impossible.

I smile back.

_I have found her._

I still need God's approval though, a gesture from Him. I look up, pleading one more time, muttering.

"Please, God… Prove my father wrong…"

I look at her when she speaks.

"Welcome, Reverend Mather."

I can do nothing but clear my bruised throat, seduced by her presence. I try to nod to show respect to this beautiful lady but my body is not responding.

"W-What is your name?" If I could I would take a step back, just to regain control of my actions.

"Gloriana." a soft whisper escaping her full lips. My heart is pounding.

What a better sign than her own name?

_Glory_.

Music to my ears.

Now I can aspire to nothing less but Heaven itself.

God works in mysterious yet miraculous ways. I, in no way, intend to question Him nor His reasons. He is wise. Almighty.

And I, as a faithful servant, shall follow His lead.

This lady here is _glorious_.

_Gloriana._

* * *

_Hi everyone! :)_

_This is one version. I do think that Gloriana fell for Cotton before he did._

_I believe one of the reasons for him to visit her is lust but I guess he would somehow try to justify that._

_I hope you like this chapter. Let's see what else is in store..._

_Thank you!_

_Aindrea_


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